


Licking Frogs and Other Bad Decisions (That Might Actually Be Good)

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: no_tags, M/M, Podfic Available, Summer of Like, Warped Tour 2005
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It began, as it so often did during Warped, with a box of frogs on the floor in the middle of the lounge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Licking Frogs and Other Bad Decisions (That Might Actually Be Good)

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no idea where this story came from. I was writing a sort of predatory (in a good way) Gerard chasing after Pete and then realized, wait, the _PROMPT_ and did a 180 in terms of tone. Apparently the frogs are a big hit, so I had to do _A Softer World_ remix, of course.
> 
> Many thanks to Andeincascade for handholding and talking me through this and so much more, and extra thanks to anotherslashfan for reassuring me that it did work.
> 
> Prompt: _9\. Gerard/Pete - bonding_

It began, as it so often did during Warped, with a box of frogs on the floor in the middle of the lounge.

Gerard didn't realize the box contained frogs; it was labeled 'Premium Apples from Stella Maris Farms' and he hadn't seen a real vegetable or fruit for fucking _weeks_. He tore the box open and couldn't help the little disappointed sound that escaped when instead of apples he found frogs. A lot of them, hopping and ribbiting inside the plastic lined box.

There was a groan and Gerard looked up to find Pete Wentz rubbing his eyes blearily, slowly sitting up on the ratty couch. His eyes were rimmed with smudged eyeliner, like a raccoon. It was strangely sexy, in a rumpled sort of way.

"Are these your frogs?" Gerard asked. "And where the fuck is Mikey?"

"Maybe. Dunno." The words weren't slurred, but Gerard wasn't exactly convinced that Pete wasn't drunk or stoned or maybe both.

"Okay." Gerard closed up the box of frogs and went into the kitchenette, digging around in the cabinets until he found Frank's secret stash of strawberry Pop Tarts. They counted as a fruit, right? He opened a package and took a bite, and started the coffee brewing. He wasn't anywhere near human until he'd had some coffee.

He turned and leaned back on the counter, watching as Pete staggered to his feet and stretched, arms reaching toward the ceiling. His shirt rode up, and Gerard tried not to stare at the flat plane of his belly, and the bat-heart-skull tattoo that sat right under his navel. He took another bite of his Pop Tart, brushing away the crumbs. "Are you and Mikey fucking?"

Pete choked and coughed, his face turning a rather alarming shade of red. "What?" he spat out, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water. "What the fuck—"

Gerard kept his cool. He had this. "Are you and Mikey fucking? I have a speech prepared, about the importance of love and honorable intentions, how Mikey's not one to give his heart away easily, and when he does, it _means_ something."

Pete was frozen, like a rabbit who'd scented a wolf.

He lit a cigarette and took a drag. "I'm his older brother, and since Mom and Dad aren't here, it falls to me to ask what your plans are with regard to Mikey." He poured coffee into a mostly clean mug, added creamer and sugar, and took a sip.

"Oh my God," Pete moaned, sitting back down on the couch and covering his face with his hands. "I gotta be having a freaking nightmare."

"Nope." Gerard drained the coffee and refilled the mug. "So, tell me, Wentz, are you gonna break my little brother's heart? Have your decadent way with him and then grind him into the dirt? I'm a Jersey boy, and I know a little something about kneecapping people, especially those who hurt Mikey. . ." Gerard had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the sheer terror that crossed Pete's face.

"Are you serious?" Pete looked like he was about to run screaming off the bus and out onto the venue grounds.

"Not at all," he said, hiding his grin behind his cup.

Pete scratched at his hair, which was sticking out at odd angles, making him look like an anime character. "Oh." 

"You're surprisingly gullible for a guy from Chicago."

Pete groaned. "I've been awake for less than five minutes and you've got the advantage of _caffeine_. . ."

"True." Gerard lifted his mug in salute, and made no move to share the bounty of his coffee with Pete. "So, the frogs?"

"You have a mean streak, Gerard Way," Pete said, like he was surprised.

He had no idea, really. Gerard just tilted his head and nursed his coffee.

Sighing, Pete stood up again. "Bunch of guys—Beckett, The Rev, Eugene, Dex, Dewees and of course, Travie— were planning on licking the frogs and getting high."

Gerard felt his forehead wrinkle. "Huh. I thought that was toads."

"It is."

He rolled his eyes at that. He's glad he'd never had a chance to try the frog—toad licking thing; there were times he’d been desperate enough for a high that he would have (and had) tried anything. "So why are the frogs here on my bus, with you?"

"Frank and I rescued them," Pete beamed. "He distracted them; I grabbed the box and ran like a motherfucker."

"Hmmm," Gerard said noncommittally. "Where's Frank now?"

Pete shrugged, and Gerard couldn't help but admire his shoulders. Pete was pocket-sized, like Frank, but definitely more muscular. Just as tattooed, though, and Gerard did have a marked preference for dudes with ink. It was the artist in him. "Did you know," he said, picking his words carefully, "that sometimes Mikey and I share?"

"Yeah, dude, you guys are the codependent brothers from hell." Pete grinned, wide-mouthed and toothy. "You share _everything_." 

Gerard frowned, because that wasn't quite what he'd meant. His phone beeped with an incoming text, and—"Sound check in fifteen. Patrick says to move your ass."

"Fuck." Pete bounced on the balls of his feet for a moment, looking indecisively at the box. "Can I—"

Gerard nodded. "I'll have someone take care of them."

"They can't just dump 'em out, they gotta find a pond or something, or they'll die."

"I've got it covered, Pete."

Pete nodded, stepped into his shoes and was out the door before Gerard could say anything else.

* * *

"Holy fuck!" Pete went from dreaming happily about living in a house made out of the best Chicago deep dish pizzas to wide awake in three seconds flat.

There was a banging from under his bunk. "Shut up," Joe said. "Trying to sleep."

"Oh my God," he hissed at Mikey, who up until that point had been busy sleeping. Pete poked at his ribs for emphasis. "This is a _test_ , isn't it? You're _testing_ me."

"Quit it," Mikey mumbled, hunching to protect his bony sides from Pete's pointy finger. "And what the fuck are you talking about?"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth, low and fast. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. In all those movies, where the girl has her best friend test her boyfriend's loyalty by kissing him, and if the boyfriend kisses back, the girl dumps him, because she _knows_ he's gonna eventually cheat on her with the prom queen or maybe a cheerleader or—"

"Shut. Up," Joe repeated, using his fists to emphasize the words. "Gonna kill you if you don't shut up, Pete, swear to God."

Pete couldn't really see Mikey's face in the dimness, but he'd sounded sleepy. "See! It's a test, like if Gerard kissed me," he whispered accusingly. "This is a fucking set up!"

"Dude, I love you, best friends for fucking ever and all, but I have _no_ fucking idea what you're talking about." Mikey braced himself on his elbows, sitting up a little, and bumped his head on the roof of the bunk. "We haven't seen Gerard since the show yesterday, and the only person who's kissed you is _me_."

"He said sometimes you guys share! He was trying to see if he could lead me into temptation! And then he could kneecap me for cheating on you!" Pete was breathing fast, and his heart was racing, but he'd finally figured out Gerard's grand evil plan. But Pete was wily and smart, he wasn't going to fall for this bullshit.

"Pete, Pete." Mikey's voice was soothing, and there was a shifting and then his arms were wrapped around Pete, pulling him back down onto the bunk. Pete resisted a little, but Mikey's super secret super power was cuddling Pete. "Easy, dude, easy. Gerard's not gonna kneecap anyone."

"But—" Pete flailed his arm, almost smacking himself in the face. "He said—"

Mikey caught Pete's hand and held it to his chest. "We talked about this, remember? You said that you didn't want to be in a relationship with arbitrary lines of who we could and couldn't have sex with. That our love was more than that."

"Yeah, but—I meant _you_." He let himself relax into Mikey's body, settling himself into the nooks and crannies.

"Doesn't work like that," Mikey murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of Pete's eye. "Gerard and I have similar tastes in. . .most things. He's interested. S'up to you to say 'yes' or 'no'." 

"I thought he was straight." 

Pete shivered as the puffs of air from Mikey's soft laughter tickled his ear. "Not entirely. Gerard's pretty open-minded about things like that." 

He could hear the smile in Mikey's words, and echoes of that close-knit love that he'd always envied. 

Mikey sighed. "It's been tough for him this tour, being sober. We've been trying not to hover over him too much, let him have his space, but it's been hard. I worry about him."

Pete toyed with the collar of Mikey's shirt, glad that he could hide in the darkness. "He's lonely."

"Yeah," Mikey agreed. "But he's just putting it out there. Yes, no, or maybe; it's not going to change anything between us. Okay?"

"Okay, Mikeyway." 

"Thank God," Joe said from below. "Drama over now?"

"Fuck off," Pete said, without heat. He rested his head against Mikey's chest, and tried to let the rhythmic sound of Mikey's heartbeat soothe him to sleep. It didn't work, but it gave him time to think.

* * *

The sun was low on the horizon, and the sound of the last bands hitting their stages was tinny and far away. Gerard sat next to a small stream, propped up by a tree and smoking a cigarette. Worm had scouted out the grounds around the venue and had found this little stream, and Frank had managed a quick Google check to identify the frog species. He'd also investigated the habitats of the Pacific tree frog ( _Pseudacris regilla_ ) to make sure the stream was an okay place for them to live.

The frogs were ubiquitous to the west coast, and could live anywhere. Gerard thought the stream and the grass and the trees were a great place for frogs. If he were a frog, this would be like, upscale Froglandia to him.

"Hey."

Gerard looked up, and it was Pete, looking uncertain and cautious.

"Welcome to Froglandia," Gerard said, indicating the area with a sweep of his arm. "Homes starting in the lower $200's. Will build to suit."

"Two hundred thou is pretty cheap for this area."

"Probably. But it's pretty far from schools, and the flood insurance is pretty steep. That keeps the property values kinda low." He patted the ground next to him. "Pull up some grass and have a seat." He pointed at the cardboard box at his side. "Gonna release these guys pretty soon."

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

Gerard lit another cigarette and offered the pack to Pete, who shook his head. He studied the lit end, watching the paper burn to ash. "Talked to my sponsor today, about regrets."

" _Between your smiles and regrets_."

"That was off your first album, wasn't it?" 

Pete looked comically surprised.

"I've listened to your stuff, and not just because you hooked up with my brother." He shrugged and took a drag off of his cigarette. "I have a lot of regrets." When he looked sidelong at Pete, there was something about the way he held himself, stiff and upright, that made Gerard think that Pete was no stranger to regret, either. "I don't want to keep holding onto them, and my therapist says that's healthy."

Pete's laugh was sharp and a little bitter. "If only it were that easy."

"Yeah." He opened the box of frogs and watched them hop around. "I thought maybe I could give my regrets to the frogs, and when they hopped off to live out their lives in Froglandia, I could leave my regrets behind. But—"

"Too many regrets. The frogs would never be able to hop away under the weight of them."

Gerard snorted, because Pete understood. Frank and Bob had just stared at him when he'd tried to explain. "Exactly. So I decided that if I gave each frog a single regret, it would be much more manageable for the frogs."

Pete's grin was blinding. It was one of the things that Gerard liked about Pete, the way he threw himself into his smiles. "What a sweet idea, dude."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head and searched Pete's face for any hint of condescension. 

"Yeah, totally. Can I help?"

Gerard thought about Best Buy parking lots and summer camps from hell and nodded. "Sure." He carefully fished a frog out of the box. "Might as well start with the big ones first." He cleared his throat. "Wish I hadn't missed seeing my grandma that last time before she passed." Gerard set the frog on the ground, where it sat for a long minute. He was afraid that maybe that particular regret was too heavy, but the frog finally hopped away and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Pete leaned close and scooped out a frog. "I regret getting my first tattoo. It's ugly, and makes me feel ugly." The frog jumped out of Pete's cupped hands and disappeared into the grass. 

They sat there silently, listening to the frogs croak and the almost musical sound of the water running in the stream. "That felt strangely satisfying," Pete said.

"Yeah, it did," Gerard said, reaching for another frog.

* * *

"I like Gerard," Pete whispered against Mikey's collarbone. "He's just as broken as I am, in some ways."

"There's nothing wrong with either of you," Mikey mumbled, struggling to get comfortable in Pete's cramped bunk. "'Broken' is an arbitrary label used by society to classify those who don't conform."

Pete blinked at him. "You been talking to Andy?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Shut up and go to sleep, Wentz."

Closing his eyes, Pete snuggled close to Mikey, rubbing his face against the softness of Mikey's shirt. He counted some sheep, then played the bass line from _Sugar_ in his head, rolled over, then rolled back.

"Stop," Mikey said, throwing his arm around Pete's waist and pinning him in place. "Sleep."

"I can't. I just keep thinking about—" Pete cut himself off, because he wasn't sure he wanted to bring the subject up again.

"What are you thinking about?" Mikey sounded infinitely patient.

Pete took a deep breath, and then another. "Sharing. You sure you don't mind?"

Leaning forward, Mikey pressed a kiss to Pete's lips. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just—don't share any details with me. I don't wanna know that kind of stuff."

"Okay."

"Okay. Go to sleep, Pete."

"Okay."

When Pete was sure Mikey was asleep, he pressed another kiss to his lips. "Thank you," he whispered. Mikey had the uncanny ability to know exactly what Pete needed, and the even more amazing ability to give it to him if it was at all possible. 

Sometimes all Pete really needed was the room to grow.

* * *

When Gerard kissed Pete, he tasted like bubble gum and pizza.

It was summer, and Warped, which mean prank wars and hot asphalt, sleeping through the days to beat the heat. Pete monopolized a good portion of Mikey's time, and Gerard was fine with that. He wanted Mikey to be happy, and he was distracted by the distant strains of new music that was starting to haunt him.

His art was demanding a lot of his attention, too. He was revisiting characters that he'd created in the past, fleshing them out, creating the world they inhabited. Pete would watch him, wide-eyed and quiet, as Gerard drew out sketches of panels, and it was always unexpected when Pete sought him out.

Sometimes they made out in secret places, hidden from prying eyes. Sometimes they talked about comics or books or art. They compared their medication, and addictions, and laughed about it, because they understood each other.

Gerard liked kissing Pete, because he would melt a little against Gerard. Pete trusted Gerard enough to let go of his control, knew that Gerard would take care of him. Gerard felt protective of Pete, the way he was of his band and his family. 

He didn't want to think about the future right now, content to take each day as it came.

"No more regrets," Pete said, and Gerard could only agree.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Licking Frogs and Other Bad Decisions (That Might Actually Be Good)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/989812) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine), [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty)




End file.
